Crazy, Crazy, Crazy
by AMKelley
Summary: There are only so many words to describe Tyrell. *PWP, sexual content, dubious consent, rough sex, unhealthy relationships, blood, loss of virginity*
If you were to ask me to describe Tyrell Wellick in three words it'd be crazy, _crazy_ , _**crazy**_ with each one getting a little more distinguishable than the last as I delve deeper into this madness.

I thought he was crazy when he asked me to join Evil Corp as Tech Support. He had to have been out of his mind to ask a nobody like me, someone he talked to a grand total of once, to be a part of a conglomerate of that stature. I declined, of course, not wanting to be caught dead working for something like Evil Corp. Still, after that, I started to keep an eye on Tyrell. I told myself it was out of genuine curiosity, a force of habit.

He was even more _crazy_ when he caught me red-handed at Steel Mountain, revealing to me that he was aware of how I had framed Colby and how he intended to do nothing about it. Any person of sound mind would have immediately turned me over to the police and I still have no idea why he didn't. I was obviously a threat and I could bring society to it's knees with one keystroke, but I realized, at the time, I hadn't known that Tyrell had bigger things to worry about. And still, I continued to watch him from a glowing computer screen, but even that hadn't been a safe enough distance from the wildfire I put myself in.

By the time I discover exactly how bat shit _**crazy**_ Tyrell is, it's too late. He shows up at my apartment unannounced and I know I've dug myself into a hole I can't get out of. I became too preoccupied with his life to escape it and now his problems are mine. I thought watching him from afar wouldn't have any backlash, I've done it before, but I had been wrong. Tyrell was different, he had his own ulterior motives, he wasn't some low-life shop owner peddling kiddie porn over the web. Tyrell was ambitious, he had something to lose other than his pride and that made him dangerous as he drove himself further off the deep end, taking me with him.

He was willing to kill for what he wanted, what he thought he _deserved_ , and that made Tyrell _**crazy**_ in every aspect of the word. The only thing more _**crazy**_ than that, however, was how I actually agreed to willingly take him into fsociety, but not before I let him throw me against one of the crumbling walls in my shitty apartment to have his way with me. I did nothing to stop him as he took me against every available surface. What could I do anyway? He knew where I lived and he burrowed deep enough into my world to the point where I couldn't reach him anyway. I was compromised. I was fucked, in more ways than one.

What upped the ante was the fact that I didn't care. I didn't care when Tyrell invaded my personal space to kiss me hard on the lips and I cared even less when he turned me around and slammed me into the door and undressed me from the waist down. He had no idea that I was virgin either, and I never bothered to tell him when he hastily prepared me. I screamed when he entered me because I figured it's what he wanted and also because it hurt. Still, I pushed back against him through it all because I was too far gone at this point. I thought I might as well commit since I've come this far.

Maybe that made me crazy by proxy. I had watched and obsessed over Tyrell for weeks that I never once thought of the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Tyrell had not been the crazy one after all. People are _crazy_ in varying degrees, but he wasn't the one stalking people and arguing with hallucinations of his dead father. And, by embracing the idea that I had absolutely lost my mind, it made this particular encounter with Tyrell even more cathartic.

To be able to let go and not care without having to abuse a substance and feeling like another one of Tyrell's conquests was oddly satisfying. It hadn't been the ideal scenario to lose my virginity, but it was good enough just to feel the stretch and ache of having him inside me, tearing me open just slightly to the point where I could feel the blood trickling down my inner thighs as he thrusted his cock mercilessly in and out of me.

I cried and sobbed and moaned until my voice went hoarse as Tyrell took what was his, what he _deserved_ , and I convinced myself into enjoying it as he panted hotly in my ear and told me how _beautiful_ I was. I didn't even flinch when one of his hands came up to wrap around my throat. I accepted my fate and continued to moan into whatever surface he would decide to fuck me into or across next. And when he did finally come inside me, which diluted the blood dripping from my abused hole to a shade of pink, it surprised me when he feverishly jacked me off to completion.

The scream I let out tore from my throat unabashed and I enjoyed every second as my cock pulsed in a mixture of shame and confused arousal. I was, arguably, at my lowest point in life but I couldn't deny the obvious high I got from having Tyrell violate me in the most intimate way. Knowing that I was ruined for everyone else now was more satisfying than morphine ever could be and that made me _crazy_. But that was fine. I didn't care anyway because so was Tyrell. We're all crazy, some more than others. You can't sit there and convince me otherwise, so why deny it?

If you can't fight the _crazy_ , embrace it.


End file.
